Our Old World is Hard to Find
by lucklessforhim
Summary: When Rachel hides a huge secret from Jesse while they are apart, Jesse fears he may never be able to forgive her again.


_I don't even remember how I thought of this; it's been a part of my brain for so long. I hope you enjoy! I'm not sure how many chapters it will be but it's approximately 32K long…_

_Title is from Belly Up by Maria Mena, other songs used are Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton, Rain by Patty Griffin, and One Moment More by Mindy Smith. Rated M for sex and language._

_To my darling, amazing beta and best friend…This NEVER would have happened without your support. I can't thank you enough for staying up with me into the early morning, reading revisions over and over again, and just generally being AWESOME. You enable me in the worst possible way, and I love you for it._

* * *

><p>They're older and they say that they're wiser, but they're really not. Rachel is still driven and a little naïve. Jesse is still ruthless and catches all the breaks. It's small differences, little details, really. She traded penny loafers for pumps years ago, and last month he grew a goatee. Rachel had looked at him two weeks into <em>that <em>experiment and just said, "If you want dinner, you need to go shave."

They're the most stable couple either of them knows, which is a little scary sometimes.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It's a little known fact that Thanksgiving is easily Rachel Berry's favorite holiday. Every other day of the year she was doing one thing or another, always active. She is working regularly in small roles on Broadway, and when she isn't caught up in a show she's performing in clubs and working on her own musical. She likes her comfortably busy life 364 days of the year, but on Thanksgiving she just likes to cook and relax and be with her friends and family.

It is also the one day of the year that she makes an exception to her vegetarian lifestyle and indulges in a little bit of turkey. A college habit of stress baking (and eating) changed her veganism, but she largely still avoids meat, only indulging in a couple of slices of turkey once a year.

Rachel is bent over the open oven, basting the turkey and checking on the dressing when Jesse saunters into the room, phone pressed to his ear.

"Uh-huh... Yes... I understand this is a great opportunity, but I don't have an answer for you right now... Thank you for considering me...I'll be in touch soon, yes."

Jesse sighs as he drops his phone on the counter, and waits for the question from Rachel. He knows she's going to ask. She's too curious for her own good.

"Was that a work thing?" Rachel asks curiously. "Jesus, it's a _holiday_..."

"Not in London it's not."

The statement hangs in the air, hovering above them in the large kitchen, waiting to be addressed.

Rachel slowly turns to face Jesse, basting brush still in hand.

"London?"

"I've been asked to join the cast of a new West End play."

"Not the play I've been obsessing over since it was announced?"

"Yep. That's the one. Their male lead dropped out at the last minute, and they want me in the part as soon as possible."

"Do it," she tells him immediately, completely without hesitation.

"Whoa. Slow down. I'd have to move to London for at least six months, and leave like…December first. That's a big commitment."

"It's also a great opportunity," she argues back.

"I don't want to leave you," he admits softly, avoiding her gaze by sifting through the almonds, pecans and roasted pumpkin seeds of her signature Thanksgiving Trail Mix for a cranberry.

"We'll work it out. I can visit," she reminds him brightly, laying a hand on his cheek and turning his head to face her.

He's still unsure, not quite convinced that this is a good idea. He's thinking of all the things happening in the next six months; his birthday, Rachel's birthday, Christmas, Hanukkah, New Year's, _his and Rachel's anniversary_...he doesn't want to miss all of that.

Rachel steps even closer to him, seemingly hearing his thoughts, and wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with the wavy hair just above his neck.

"How about this? Take the holiday weekend to think about it. If you want to do it, we'll work out a schedule for me to visit."

She made it sound so...simple, so much _less _ like he would be moving to a foreign country for an extended period of time, he thinks to himself.

But even leaning in to kiss her, with the comforting scent of cinnamon and nutmeg surrounding them, couldn't stop the sinking feeling in his stomach that _something_ would go wrong.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Do you have everything?" she asks for the tenth time in thirty minutes.

"Yes," Jesse replies immediately, a patient smile on his lips.

"Your passport?"

"Yes."

"You're _sure_?"

"Rachel," he murmurs, gathering her into his arms. "I'm ready to go, I have everything, and I'll be fine."

She nods slightly, gazing up at him, her big brown eyes brimming with tears.

"I'm just worried," she mumbles, pressing a hand to her stomach, hoping the anxious ache will quiet so she can enjoy her last few minutes with him.

"No," Jesse whispers with a smile, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "You're hoping I forgot something so I'll have to stay."

Affronted, she leans back in his embrace, mock-glaring at him as she shakes her head.

"No. I am not, and you really should take that back."

"Hate to break it to you, but I know you _far_ too well to recant."

She has to laugh then, but somehow it comes out more as a sob and Jesse just holds her tighter. He holds her until he has to check in for his flight and once he steps away with one last kiss and a promise to love her forever is when she starts to really lose it.

She keeps her composure just long enough to make it to her cab, hiding her splotchy, tearstained face and red eyes from the driver for the entire trip.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

She flies to London for the premiere, _of course_. He's expecting that she won't be there until the morning of because she had such a packed schedule, but the night before, there she is on his doorstep, all bundled up like a very belated Christmas gift.

Missing the holidays, and only getting to see pictures and video from Rachel's twenty-eighth birthday had been hell for them both. Ringing in the New Year over skype was torture. So, seeing her here, and earlier than he even expected, is like a dream come true.

"I wanted to surprise you," she beams, launching herself into his arms.

"I'm definitely surprised," he smiles, burying his face in her soft hair and inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo and perfume. "God, I missed you so much."

"Me, too," she whispers in his ear before grinning mischievously. "Care to let me show you how much?"

"The answer to that is always yes," he tells her seriously before lifting her up into his arms and carrying her to the bedroom, Rachel's squeal of surprise echoing in the hall.

"Always?" she asks as she kneels on the bed in front of him, working on his belt.

"_Always_, forever."

All of a sudden, it feels like they're talking about something far more serious than reunion sex, and Rachel tugs on Jesse's collar to pull him down onto the bed.

"What have you missed most?" she asks with a coy smile as she unfastens the buttons of his shirt.

"Everything," he replies, tugging her sweater over her head.

"Even jet-lagged and gross from the plane ride?" she asks, rolling her eyes.

In response, he moves down her body, his hands reaching for the button on her jeans, and as she lifts her hips, he starts to sing, "_It's late in the evening; she's wondering what clothes to wear_."

It makes her smile, and she has to bite her lip to keep from tearing up. They danced to this song on their first date. The date that Rachel counts as their first date, almost five years ago, was actually their second date as adults. She doesn't count the first one because it was essentially drinks and then fucking all night. But the second date, that's a story she can tell her children.

"_She puts on her make-up and brushes her long _brown_ hair._"

He keeps singing as he kisses his way back up her body, and she remembers them softly swaying along with the jukebox as she thought that Jesse smelled exactly like he had in high school, eucalyptus and just a spicy hint of something else that she's never been able to place.

"_And then she asks me_…"

"_Do I look all right_?" Rachel sings in return, her hands on his cheeks pulling him closer to rest her forehead against his.

"_And I say, 'Yes, you look wonderful tonight_.'"

As she rolls him over, cutting the song short by covering his mouth with her own, she can't think of anywhere else she'd rather be than here in London with him, and she tries to ignore the sinking feeling from knowing that she'll have to leave again.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Morning is Rachel's favorite time to make love, and the morning of the premiere she wakes Jesse up by straddling his waist and pressing sweet, soft kisses all over his face.

The sun is rising, the bright light of early morning filtering in through his curtains to bathe their bodies in sunshine.

"Good morning," she singsongs in his ear before biting lightly at the lobe.

"It certainly is," he agrees, his hands finding their way to her hips.

She starts kissing along his jawline, over his throat and down to his collarbone. Her kisses always have a way of making the rest of the world melt away and Jesse thinks that if he closed his eyes, he could almost believe that they were back home in Manhattan.

"Careful," he gasps as he feels her teeth softly bite into the tender skin at his pulse point.

Immediately, she pulls back to look at him with narrowed eyes, her grip on his shoulders tightening almost painfully.

"…_What_?"

The list of things he wants to be doing with Rachel right now is long, but fighting is not on it.

"I have the premiere tonight. It's kind of a big deal. I don't want to have to worry about covering up hickeys that my sex-starved girlfriend left," he explains, hoping she'll see that he's trying to be rational, responsible, and professional.

Rachel arches one eyebrow at him, scooting away from him a bit. He's never stopped her from doing this before, and from the look on her face he should be glad she didn't slap him.

"You're going to be wearing makeup," she points out petulantly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Not before or after, when they'll be taking _pictures_."

"Wear a fucking scarf! It's London in _January_." She sits back on his thighs, her hands against his chest keeping him from sitting up with her.

"Why are you so pissed?"

She scoffs and looks out the window for a second, shaking her head. He's pretty sure even _she_ doesn't know why she's so pissed.

"Come on, Rach. We make these rules at home when I'm in a show…this isn't that different."

He's not sure why he reminded her of that, because he knows that she hates it.

"I'm here for less than a week, Jesse," she says softly, looking at her hands on his chest.

He runs his hands up her bare sides and over to her shoulder blades, pulling her back down to lie on his chest.

"I know. I'm sorry," he whispers before kissing her deeply.

His heart aches as he rolls Rachel onto her back and he watches her eyes close as he kisses almost every inch of her chest. His tongue darts out to taste her nipple and she gasps with her legs tightening around his waist in response.

After that, he doesn't care what kind of marks she leaves on him. He's just grateful for the fact that she's here to make them.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The premiere is one of the best of his career, and it has less to do with the packed house he received a standing ovation from, and more to do with Rachel, who was waiting for him in his dressing room and kissed him in between murmurs of how proud she was to be his.

She never lets go of him for the whole night, either. From leaving the theatre, to drinks with the cast after, her arm stays locked around his with their fingers laced together.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"You never mentioned how pretty she is," Rachel mumbles around her toothbrush, staring hard into the mirror.

"...Should I have?" he asks slowly, watching her carefully from his position on the bed. This conversation is starting to feel like a trap to him.

All she does is shrug and Jesse knows this is quickly turning into a real issue. He's been here for a month, busting his ass to be ready for the opening with the rest of the cast. He hasn't had time to cheat on her, not that he would ever want to.

"I didn't mention it, because I don't care how pretty she is," he replies, flopping onto his back on the bed, just waiting.

"So you _do_ think she's pretty?"

There it is. He can't believe he accidentally stepped into that one. Now, there are a million ways to screw this all to hell and only a couple of ways to get out of this.

"I know other people do," he shrugs, hoping to come off as calmly unconcerned and not like he was blowing her off.

"You can tell me if you think she's attractive. You have to kiss her; you must have noticed her looks. It's perfectly natural, and I know that doesn't mean anything more than you're alive and a man."

She's leaning casually against the bathroom door frame. Her tone is carefully nonchalant. All outward signs point to this conversation being no big deal. But, he knows that's complete bullshit. Rachel is jealous and possessive, and he'll be surprised if she doesn't try to trip Lisa tomorrow.

"You've gotta trust me, Rachel, just like I have to trust you. If you don't think you can, I'm going to be flying back with you on Tuesday. This isn't worth it if it causes this kind of stress on our relationship."

"I trust you," she promises him quietly, curling up next to him in the bed.

"Good. You know you're the only woman for me, right?"

"I know."

Her eyes are locked on the closet door over his shoulder, and he wants to make sure that she really gets it.

"Look at me. You're _it_. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and I'll love you for the rest of my life."

"Show me," she whispers, softly tracing his bottom lip with the tip of her thumb as she stares into his eyes.

Not wasting another second, he leans in and kisses her deeply. The lingering taste of his spearmint mouthwash hits his tongue and he smiles against her lips, his hands pulling her hips closer to his. She wants him to show her how much he loves her? How much he wants her? He'll do more than that.

He moves down to start kissing her neck, his hands sliding up under his favorite _Spamalot _ t-shirt, the one that Rachel had claimed for herself shortly before their first anniversary. He has to admit, it looks a lot better on her than it ever had on him. Most of the reason that it's his favorite is because it hits her in the _perfect_ place.

He's lost count of the number of times he's watched her making french toast for the two of them on Sunday mornings, the shirt stopping just above her thighs and giving him a delectable view of her legs with the slightest glimpse of her bare bottom peeking out when she reached for something.

Just being with her like that was one of the things he's missed most since being here in London.

"Jesse," she moans in his ear, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist.

He pulls his hands away from her soft, warm skin to pull the hem of the shirt up over her head and shove it off the side of the bed.

"Beautiful," he whispers, seeing her blushing smile before he leans in to kiss her again.

She sighs contentedly into the kiss, and that familiar sound coupled with her hips shifting beneath his has him forgetting about everything else, time and space melting away and leaving only her, here with him.

He kisses his way down her body, inch by inch, his lips moving at a lazy pace that seems to be agonizing for her, from the way she's squirming under his touch. He's glad that they chose to skip out on drinks after dinner with everyone in favor of coming back here, to his temporary home to just spend time together, because her reactions are intoxicating enough.

She shivers when he kisses the swell of her left breast, close enough to hear her heartbeat. She quivers when his lips brush against the freckle just above her bellybutton, her breath hitching in her throat. He nips lightly at the skin of her hip, his fingers curling around the waistband of her panties, and she shudders as she weaves her fingers through his hair.

He's not sure why she even bothered to put underwear on, and he slowly drags the panties down her legs, noticing for the first time that she painted her toes fire engine red recently. Probably for him, he thinks as he carelessly tosses the lace behind him.

She sits up suddenly, kissing him while pushing his boxers down with shaking hands and a grunt of dissatisfaction that's muffled by her biting at his lower lip.

He immediately presses her back onto the mattress, one hand splayed wide in the middle of her stomach with just enough pressure to keep her where he wants her to stay. He has to roll away from her for just a second, barely long enough to shed what little clothing he had on, and she whines low in her throat, missing him in her arms.

He wraps his arms around her and her hands land on his shoulders, pulling him in as close as she can. When she kisses him, it's not nearly as soft or gentle as his had been, her tongue easily slipping into his mouth to deepen the connection. Her hips grind against his, her legs tightening around his waist to get as much contact as she can, and he moans into her mouth.

He'd been trying to make her crazy with need, but he's only succeeded in doing that to himself. The thought of being inside of her, the memories of last night and that morning echoing in his mind are almost enough to make him come.

He eases away from her, propping himself up on his forearms and quickly moving into position, Rachel kissing and biting wantonly at his shoulder as he does.

She bites down hard when he thrusts into her, no doubt leaving a clear mark above his collarbone for the entire world to see. He pulls his hips back, almost completely withdrawing, before he thrusts into her again, harder than the first time.

"Ah!" she gasps sharply, her fingernails digging into his biceps.

He knows she's not in pain. She's been craving harder, faster, and _more _for the past two days.

"_Yes_," she hisses as he buries his face in the curve of her neck, kissing the mark he left the night before. One of her hands curls around his neck while the other slips through the soft hair at the base of his head.

All plans for this time being slow and romantic go completely out the window when Rachel starts meeting his thrusts, her hips bucking wildly but somehow in perfect time with him.

He pounds into her relentlessly and she loves every second of it, her gasps and moans filling the small bedroom. One of her hands is gripping the bar of the iron headboard behind her, the muscles in her forearm straining as she tries to keep herself from coming.

"Come," he grits out before kissing her deeply, the moment not lasting nearly as long as he'd like before he has to pull back to desperately suck more oxygen into his lungs.

The hand on the bar releases and she nods, angling her hips differently so that she can get the right friction against her clit.

"Jesse," she whimpers, and he knows that's a sign that she's right on the edge. "I love you."

She always says it at least once, no matter what, almost like she's worried he'll forget.

Tonight, especially because of their earlier conversation, he makes a point to meet her eyes when he says it back.

"I love you, too." He leans in to whisper in her ear then, and as _forever_ leaves his lips, her whole body starts to shake, her muscles tensing as she comes apart for him, her walls pulsing around him.

One more thrust from him, and he comes deep inside of her, his fingers bruising her thigh he's keeping wrapped around his hip.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

If saying goodbye to him once was hard, doing it a second time nearly kills her.

Standing in Heathrow's drop off area with her bags at her side and Jesse's arms around her, Rachel feels like she's cutting her heart out. She doesn't want to let go.

"Call me when you get home."

"No," she says into his shirt, shaking her head. "It's expensive."

"I don't care. I want to know the instant you land safely."

He's insisting and she knows _technically_ they can afford it, so she nods in agreement. After leaving him _again_ and the plane ride, she'll want to hear his voice.

"Come with me," she sobs, and the request is unexpected to them both. It's also unfair. This was her idea to begin with. She doesn't have any right to say that to him, not here and certainly not now.

"I can't," Jesse whispers before kissing her, entirely too loving and understanding, much more than she is to him sometimes. "I have to stay, but I'll be back before you know it, and you can visit again soon."

They make plans that are never to be, and at the last possible second Rachel tears herself away from him and stomps to her gate, tears streaming down her face.


End file.
